Threadscored Hopes, Scorched Dreams
by H Max Marius
Summary: Post AIVAS. The Red Star may no longer reach into the Oort Cloud, but the instincts that drive thread to seek the warmth of Rukbat will not be denied.
1. Moth, Flame, Mycorrhiza

**Moth, Flame, Mycorrhiza**

Through the cold darkness of the Sagittarian Sector the spore drifted. Like whales drawn to the shallows, or salmon to their home river, they were attracted to the warm, pinprick stars sprayed across the galactic arm. An instinctual need, a craving impossible to resist.

Away from the stars, gases became liquids and flowed as blood, liquids became solid bones or muscles, and electrical pulses found freedom to move unimpeded. In the cold of deep space, thought existed in its many and varied forms, for the spore were not all of a kind, but a multitudinous host.

Around the fringes of the stars, they would feed. Organics and other volatiles stoked their slow burning metabolisms. They swarmed the icy rocks that girded the system, swooping low to absorb the molecules that floated free under the distant sunlight. Landing to soak in the nutrients.

And here, in the dimness, thought became intelligence. An electromagnetic hum, lost in the background wash of the star, was the conversation of billions, or maybe the mind of just one.

Yet even the intelligences among them felt the craving.

'Go where it is warm.'

'Join together.'

The rock came by. Like fish, schooling after bait, they jetted into its influence. The foolish ones rushed in quickly and were swallowed in the planetoid's gravity, but most swung about it in a great cloud. Majestically, it drifted along its course through the edges of the system, reached apogee and began the long fall inward. The cloud continued to grow as more joined for the ride, jostling the orbits, causing some to lose their tentative grip and still others to fall inward to the icy rock below.

And then, they were alone. Just the rock and the cloud on the long slide down the star's gravity well. At first, they felt no change, the young laughing at the warnings of the old. Slowly, heat began to build, complimenting and irritating the burning craving that had driven them to this moment. Thoughts became sluggish as the volatiles warmed closer and closer to the superconductivity border.

Pressure from the sunlight began to impede their progress and the smaller ones began to fall behind. As the planetoid fell further, its surface began to heat causing great jets of gas to blast outward, carrying a lucky few from the surface back into orbit, and blasting still others into the trailing tail.

All thought was now impossible. Bare instincts were all that remained and still the heat grew. As they swept towards their turn, the space among them became filled with the tiny bits that interacted to make more of the spores.

Their spawning complete, most went inert, husbanding the last of their cold gases to survive the return trip to their deep, cold home. Not all would survive. Some would sweep too close to the star, boiling off the last of their precious volatiles to become empty husks. Others would have their orbit perturbed and would lack sufficient energy to reach their home in the Oort Cloud, destined to forever cycle between the heat and cold until they too were baked into empty shells. And there were the other obstacles, before them a blue speck grew larger and closer. The wispy tendrils of its gravity tugged at their course and more fell.

As they fell to the blue planet, the passage through the atmosphere burned away their protective shell. The tightly packed organisms slowed and stretched out into long filaments. Tasting the rich organic soup of the blue world, the spores' only remaining instinct awakened.

They began to feed.

At the edge of the system, another, smaller rock began to fall.


	2. Pass

**Pass**

The icy rock fell slowly inward. Passing the outer gas giants, the first flaring of its coma sparkled against the backdrop of stars. As if a switch had been thrown, the tiny pinprick of light expanded into a hazy, glowing mass.

One and three quarter hours later, light reflected from that mass reached a searching lens. Endlessly hovering above the bright blue third planet of the star once and more recently again known as Rukbat, the lonely sentinel stood watch.

Once one of three, now only the Yokohama remained. A proud warship, survivor of a war now barely a footnote in the history of the world from which she came. The troopship was refit for one final mission, to lead a small fleet to the far reaches of the Sagittarian Sector for the founding of an agrarian colony. Her mission fulfilled, she and her two smaller sisters were retired to a stationary orbit over the original landing site, where for two and a half millennium they slumbered.

Awakened for a belated curtain call, the three colony ships sacrificed their great engines to nudge the red wanderer that regularly threatened the blue world into a safe orbit. The two smaller ships, their fuel near exhausted were removed from their orbits by the same creatures who'd transported the engines to the wandering planet, and once more, men carefully closed down the Yokohama's systems.

But the slumber was fitful, as the sensors and the ship's great telescope were left active, reporting to the reactivated ground station. New programs had been written and uploaded. New search parameters were encoded.

The arriving light triggered the new programs which analyzed and cataloged the fuzzy object. In several months, the comet would become visible to the people on the planet below. Detecting no immediate threat, the information was handed over to other programs for cataloging of its mass and composition. As the data moved in circles within the Yokohama's computer mainframe, one program, really more of a back door hack into the great ship's military database, sniffed out something suspicious.

Unheard by anything living, combat alerts sounded throughout the great ship. Declaring their priority over all other systems, the military programs took command of the vessel, aiming the telescope and the most powerful sensors toward the in-falling object.

The programs queried the bridge, seeking the authority to take action. Receiving no reply, they called up the ground station. Deep in the the night below, there was no one awake to respond to the summons. It's priorities not yet fulfilled, the system scanned it's list of authorized users. Selecting it's most recent entry, it accessed the ground station and pulled the contact information for the entry posted fifty years before.

In the western foothills of the northern continent, a lonely old man slowly walked the corridors he used to run when he was but a boy. The communicator in the robe of his pocket warbled.

"Hello?" The old voice quavered in the receptors.

"Jaxom of Ruatha?" The command protocol inquired.

"Yes." In spite of the vagaries of age, the voiceprint confirmed his identity for the system.

"Authorization request, priority alpha. AIVAS imperative thirty-one."

"Do what you will!" The old man shouted into the device "Stupid kids playing..." The connection clicked dead.

Accepting the first sentence as the authorization the system required, the protocols fully activated the ship's systems. For the first time since the Yokohama had been mustered out after the Nathi War the computer systems came fully alive.

Defensive Weapons – Screens charged

Offensive Weapons – None available

Drives- Inoperative

Thrusters – Minimal

Crew -Absent

Sensory – seventy-five percent

Probe Garage – One probe. Functionality test in progress

Test complete. Probe and launch tube functional.

Probe Away.

Jetting away from the ship, the probe focused all of its sensory on the inbound object. The ship's command system analyzed the results of all of the colonists attempts to send probes to the wandering planet. Applying that knowledge, the combat systems selected a low observable, standoff approach to the comet.

Before the probe was halfway to the comet, the system had already confirmed what it had suspected. The rock was dragging thread ovoids behind it. In eight months, Pern was once more going to be targeted by it's ancient foe.

The command program again checked it's protocols. Logging into the ground facility, it accessed the core functionality.

'Restore . ai . execute'


	3. Ruatha Hold

**Ruatha Hold, Post Pass, 25****th**** Turn**

Bright fire danced and crackled on the stone hearth. The old man stood with his back to the flames, facing the great hall. Raising his arms to the assembled throng, he cleared his throat. At his signal, the harpers entertaining crowd fell silent.

As the guests followed the harper's lead their host cleared his throat. His weathered voice, quavery with age, yet long used to being heard over the roar of the wind, carried easily to the far corners of the hall.

"Tonight, as you celebrate the seventy-second turn since my birth, I choose to honor the memory of those who made who and what I have become possible. I raise this glass, this fine Benden vintage from that very turn to the memory of Lytol; Dragonrider, Masterweaver, Lord Warder, mentor and friend."

"Lytol!" The crowd echoed.

Not waiting for the echo to die, Jaxom continued.

"To Robinton. Forever to be known as The Masterharper, conscience and confidant of Pern."

"Robinton!" Strummed chords and pipe whistles punctuated the cry.

"To F'lar and my kinswoman Lessa. Visionaries and humble servants of us all."

"The Weyrleaders!" The crowd cried.

"And my beloved wife Sharra, taken from us..." His voice broke with a sob.

From the head table, a middle aged man wearing the colors of Benden Weyr and the knot of Weyrleader rose to assist him.

Jaxom took a deep breath and waved the man back to his seat.

"No S'wan, I can finish." Jaxom turned back to the crowd.

"To Sharra, taken from us this past summer, in the season she loved so fully here in Ruatha."

"The Lady Sharra!" The crowd replied.

Jaxom tilted back his goblet and drank deeply of the wine in memory of those he had cared most about. As the room followed suit, he motioned for a sandy haired young man to join him from the head table

"Over the turns I have done much for Ruatha, and yes, for all of Pern. Today, Ruatha prospers!"

He had to pause as the room erupted in cheers.

"Our crafthalls are second to none. The proud lineage of Ruathan racers is revived and flourishing. This hold is everything that Red and Mairi Hanrahan could have dreamed for it to become at it's founding." Jaxom paused again for the crowd's enthusiasm.

"But with all of that success, I am tired. Tonight, I announce that at the next conclave I shall retire from my position as Lord Holder of Ruatha in favor of my Grandson and steward Jastin."

Jaxom reached out and took his grandson by the arm, gently pulling the younger man between himself and the crowd.

"Ruatha requires young leadership. In Jastin's hands, Ruatha will continue to prosper!"

"Jastin! Jastin! Jastin!" The crowd gladly cried.

The young man raised his own glass high and waved the crowd to silence.

"To Lord Jaxom! Hero of Pern! Dragonrider AND Lord Holder!"

"Jaxom! Jaxom! Jaxom! Jaxom! Jaxom!" The crowd roared his name until they were hoarse.

- - -

Great bonfires crackled around the edges of the Ruatha gather square, easily banishing the spring chill from the air. Jaxom smiled wistfully, his toe tapping to the sprightly harper rhythm, as he watched his grandchildren and great-grandchildren spin their way across the square.

_"I miss her too."_ Ruth's gentle voice whispered in his head.

Jaxom turned to look at the fire heights where the old white dragon kept the day's visitors company. _"We hadn't danced a fast set in years, but she always insisted we take at least one of the slower turns."_

A deep sigh came across the link between them. _"And what would she say to see you just standing there?"_

Jaxom could feel Ruth's discontent at the deep sadness they both shared.

_"Jara comes."_

A soft touch at his elbow announced his daughter's arrival. "Chatting to the exclusion of your guests again, Father?" Her soft chuckle floated along behind the words.

Jaxom turned to face the dark haired woman before him. In appearance, so much like her mother, though everyone commented on how like her father's her eye's were. Even with forty turns, her thick hair was still the raven shade she'd been born with.

"An old man is allowed his indulgences." Jaxom replied.

As if on cue, the raucous whirling dance set ended. There was a brief commotion on the stage as the band members swapped out. With Belior rising above the tree line, the new group eased into one of the pieces that had been a particular favorite of Sharra's.

"So are daughters." Jara took his hand and grinning, pulled him towards the dancing square. "Mother said you must not forget how to dance."

"And what of your husband, would he not care for this turn?" He asked as they began the formal bows to open the dance.

Jara nodded over her shoulder. Looking past, Jaxom saw her husband Pherion, and young daughter Jeri mirroring his and Jara's movements.

"I smell a conspiracy afoot." He whispered in her ear.

"Well, Ruth has always talked to all of us, not just you and mother." She replied.

Not knowing how to reply to that revelation, Jaxom took her proffered hand and danced.

_"Ruth?" _Years before, he'd learned how to carry on a conversation with the white dragon without showing it outwardly.

_"They are your family. I am your family. They are my family. What more reason would I need?"_ The dragon replied.

_"You always have been the exception to all the conventions." _Jaxom pulled Jara through a stately spin, and for a moment, could believe that it was Sharra, and not his daughter with whom he was dancing.

_"We both are."_

- - -

The flickering candle on the table held Jaxom mesmerized. If he stared at it hard enough, turns slipped away and he could feel like he was just waiting for Sharra to come back from obliging a distinguished guest with a turn on the dancing square. Lost in the flame, he heard the harpers wind down the latest set. He knew her so well, mentally he counted off the moments until she returned. First she would exchange pleasantries with her partner, then she'd stop at the refreshment table for a fruit drink. She'd then pick up two cups of wine and make her way to wherever he was sitting.

There was a light thump on the table as the wine goblet was set by his right hand. A light touch on his right arm.

Eyes alight, Jaxom turned to face his wife.

"Grandfather?" Jastin asked.

Jaxom struggled to keep the smile on his face as the realization that Sharra was gone washed over him again. Patting the table beside him, he invited his grandson and heir to join him.

"Are our guests enjoying the evening?" He asked.

Jastin's shoulders slumped as he sat down.

"They are." Jastin replied.

Jaxom narrowed his eyes as he studied the younger man's posture. "You have something bothering you?"

The Lord Holder designate sighed. "Are you sure you want me as your heir? Really, the honor should be Uncle..."

With a slice of his hand, Jaxom cut him off. "Your uncle has his own responsibilities, and very important ones at that."

"But thread's been gone since before I was born. Surely, with it never returning, he would want to return here to hold." Jastin argued.

"Your Uncle is a dragonrider." Jaxom replied

Jastin snorted. "So are you Grandfather. Did you not once say _A weyr is where a dragon is._"

"Ruth and I were, are, and probably always will be the exceptions to a lot of rules."

Sweat glistening on his forehead, the Benden Weyrleader slid into the seat across the table. Taking a swallow from the goblet he carried, he looked over at the other two. "Jara dragged me out for one of those wild sets the younger harpers are fond of playing."

"Well S'wan, your arrival here is well timed." Jaxom offered. "Your nephew seems to want to abdicate in your favor."

Jastin paled and hid his face in his cup as S'wan guffawed. With a sheepish grin, he looked up at the dragonrider. "You are a son in the direct line, the honor should fall to you."

S'wan's face became serious. "Your father, Jarrol, was the one who was always interested in managing the hold. The honor was his. I chose a different path, and now, the honors that were to have fallen to your father fall to you."

Smiling again, the Weyrleader took up the wineskin from the end of the table and refilled Jastin's cup. "Besides, you wouldn't want to upset me after all the good things I said about you to make sure Jaxom chose you?"

S'wan slapped the table. "I have to be going. Jerath reminds me that we have an early morning tomorrow. Father, you and Ruth must visit the Weyr again soon."

Standing, he nodded to Jaxom and Jastin. "Good evening Lord Holder. Lord holder designate."


	4. Landing School

**Landing School 25PP **

**(Eight Months til Threadfall)**

_1_

Jeri awoke to the morning bustle of the girls dorm. With a groan, she pulled the blankets over her head and snuggled into the pillow. Exhausted, yet awake, she tried to force herself to return to sleep and the dream about the previous evening. Half quiet whispers hissed through the room's air.

"I need in the baths."

"Not now, we've kitchen duty."

"I'm sticky. Why's it so hot in fourmonth?"

"What about Jeri? She's on the same roster as us."

"Shhh."

The voices of the other girls in the dorm were cut off as the house mother quieted them.

"She was at the Ruatha gather until late. On top of that, they're hours behind us. She's done her turns for each of you for this privilege, or have you forgotten?"

"No Miss Rina." The girls chorused.

"Then let's get a move on, you know how the cooks are if you're late." Jeri heard Arrina say.

She felt a light hand pat her shoulder through the blankets as the girls trooped out of the room.

"Don't you pay attention in class? Seasons are backwards on the..."

The solid click of the door latching cut off the sounds of the girls departing.

In the quiet, her mind returned to the previous evening. Tired as she was, at the memory, she couldn't help but smile.

_"Hello Jeri."_

The girls eyes had widened as Ruth greeted her at the top of the stair. The White Dragon had been a huge part of her eleven turns, but it was still a joy when he chose to speak to her.

"Good evening Ruth. Are you enjoying the gather?"

_"My family is here, my friends are here. I am content."_

The dragon's eyes whirled a bright green as it moved back from the stairs to make room for her to place her bag.

Jeri sighed as she unloaded herself. "I have to return to school tonight with Jerath and Uncle S'wan. May I wait here with you?"

_"I could ask Jerath to call S'wan."_

"Oh no, don't do that. I can go when they are ready. Besides, I can spend the time here with you." Jeri had answered.

Ruth stretched then curled into a ball, with a nice nest for her to settle into by his forelegs. Grabbing her wherhide jacket as a blanket, she settled into the provided space. The warmth of the dragon's soft hide soon had her lids drooping.

"Grandfather is so lucky to have you, Ruth." Jeri mumbled sleepily. "Some of my classmates have firelizards, I wonder what it would be like to have one."

_"You would be a good firelizard friend. I will see what I can do."_

Jeri had fallen asleep after that, but the warm feeling of that comment stayed with her.

_2_

Jeri couldn't stay in bed any longer. She was too used to rising with the sun to remain asleep. Rising, she checked the room clock. The other girls were only a half-hour gone. With a shrug, she ducked into the bath to wash her face and rinse her teeth. That taken care of, she quickly dressed and reported to the kitchen.

As she entered, she was spotted by Journeyman Harper Arrina.

"Jeri, you're excused this morning. You should be asleep."

"That's okay Miss Rina. I couldn't stay in bed, so I may as well be useful." Jeri replied.

"Well, in that case, how about taking the breakfast tray to the watch?"

Jeri slung a net of mugs across one shoulder and a thermos of klah across the other. Arrina handed her a large platter and she slid out the kitchen door. Crossing from the kitchens to the AIVAS building, she smiled good mornings to others who were already about their day.

The guard held the door for her as she maneuvered the tray into the building.

"All kinds of crazy things are happening."

"How so?"

"The system usage is near to maximums and no one is on any of the machines. The Yokohama's telescope is skewed ninety degrees off of it's programmed search axis, and if this line can be believed, the ship launched a probe yesterday and is tracking it outbound."

Jeri followed the voices into a console room that had been set up for the astronomers who monitored the telescope on the colony ship.

"Breakfast." She said, setting the tray on a table near the door.

A large, grey haired man stood up from the console and limped over to the table. "Maybe with some klah, I can make some sense out of what this system is telling me."

He helped her set out the mugs and poured himself a cup.

"Tai?" He held up his mug.

"Please, F'lessan." The lady at the terminal replied.

He reached for the thermos, but Jeri already had it in her hand. "I've got it, Starmaster."

Jeri carefully placed the hot drink by the woman's hand.

"You look familiar. Have we met?" F'lessan asked.

"No, Starmaster. I am Jeri of Ruatha Hold." She replied.

"Ahhhh!" Jeri stepped back as F'lessan yelled and hit his palm against his forehead.

"What's the matter?" The woman asked.

"What's wrong? Jaxom's birthday gather! It was yesterday and I forgot!"

Jeri took a sweetroll off of the pile and slid out of the room. Everybody knew her grandfather. Grinning, she pushed against the next door down, slid through and began nibbling on the roll. Across the room, a steady green light was her only companion. She could just hear the two in the next room continuing to argue about what was going on with the computers on the Yokohama.

Suddenly, the light blinked.

Jeri shook her head and looked at it harder.

It blinked again, then turned yellow.

She moved closer to it, curious about what it was doing.

The yellow light blinked rapidly then turned green again, blinking at a steady pace. Above the light, a screen lit up with a star field. In the middle of the star field was a fuzzy dot. Lines of numbers scrolled across the bottom third of the screen. The upper portion split in two, with the left half holding the original image and the right half showing a similar fuzzy dot with the background stars shifting behind it.

"State ID and access code, please."

Jeri jumped backward as the speaker grill beside the monitor came to life.

"Please state your ID."

"J-Jeri of Ruatha Hold."

"Ruatha?" The warm mellifluous voice soothed her nervousness.

"Yes." She stood a little straighter. "Who are you?"

"I am AIVAS and I need to speak to Lord Jaxom, rider of the white dragon Ruth."

"B-B-but, you're dead?!?"


End file.
